


Fortunate

by orphan_account



Category: Persona 5
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 07:40:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15383916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: X-posted from the P5 kink meme, for the prompt "Akechi's heart creates a palace."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (Note: a 1K apartment is a really dinky studio apartment with not even a real kitchen, just one burner, a sink and a cupboard. They're common in Tokyo.
> 
> I played the game in Japanese, so I really don't know how this game was localized, such as Morgana's cat-speak, so I'm taking liberties, here.)

Gorou almost couldn't believe how perfectly everything was going. The Phantom Thieves had accepted his deal, and they were spending day after day being quite chummy together, strategizing over their infiltration of Sae's Palace.

Of course, Gorou had to make his reports on this to Shidou, too. He preferred to do this by phone, as being in the same room with the man frankly made him a little sick, but Shidou preferred to do things in person—perhaps this was an old political trick that made it easier for him to win people over with his legendary charisma, or maybe he was just afraid of the phones being tapped. Regardless, this meant Gorou was in Shidou's office that afternoon, informing him on the details of his activities with the Phantom Thieves.

Shidou seemed to be restless, that day, and rather than sitting at his desk as he usually did, he was pacing back and forth as he listened to Gorou, at times, questioning him.

“…We'll have them all in prison within a matter of weeks,” Gorou finished. He stood with straight posture before Shidou, his gloved hands behind his back and a pleasant smile plastered on his face. 

Shidou paused in his pacing to give a hair-raising grin, then took a couple steps up to Gorou to clap him on the shoulder. “Good work.”

Something about the gesture made Gorou feel particularly nauseous, and Shidou's hand made his skin crawl, even through his clothes. Gorou stepped backward, and Shidou's hand slid off him to hang back at his side. Shidou didn't seem to have noticed his disgust.

“I should be going, then,” Gorou said in an even tone, and he gave the slightest bow before striding swiftly out the door.

xxx

In the elevator down, Gorou's phone beeped with a message from the Phantom Thieves' chat. Kurusu was summoning them to the cafe so they could prepare to invade Sae's Palace. It was still early, but Gorou didn't have anything else to do, so he decided to head straight to Leblanc.

When Gorou stepped out of the building where Shidou's campaign office was located, he discovered it was pouring rain outside, and of course, Gorou hadn't brought an umbrella. He could get a cheap one at the convenience store, but the train station was close enough, and he didn't want to bother.

About twenty minutes of rattling around on a rather-full train and a short walk later, Gorou was standing in front of the door to the cafe, somewhat damp. He didn't hear a lot of chatter inside—he had to be the first one there. Through the glass door, he saw Mr. Sakura, Kurusu and Futaba, all chatting in front of the bar.

Gorou was always looking to gather information, so instead of going into the cafe to join them, he slid to the side to lean against the wall by the door so that he couldn't be seen from within, maintaining a casual posture that said perhaps he was just waiting for someone.

He could just barely make out their voices though the door. 

“…Futaba,” Mr. Sakura finished saying something.

“Hey, I did pretty good, considering it was my first time!” Gorou heard Futaba protest. 

“I've tasted better coffee from the compost bin,” Mr. Sakura grumbled.

“You dig grounds out of the compost to make coffee?” Kurusu quipped, and Gorou found himself turning his head so he could get a slight view of Kurusu through the glass. He was standing with his back to the door, while Mr. Sakura was deeper in the cafe, together with Futaba.

“Don't give me cheek, you brat,” Mr. Sakura shot back at him. “Your coffee isn't much better.” The older man turned away from Kurusu toward the back of the store, crossed his arms, then seemed to think better of it and uncrossed them again. “But, well…I appreciate you helping out around here.” He turned back to Kurusu. “You do good work, kid.” He laid his hand on Kurusu's shoulder.

A sick feeling rose in Gorou's stomach then, but he couldn't help but lean into the glass to get a closer look, to see the kind, paternal look in Mr. Sakura's eyes as he looked at Kurusu. Gorou couldn't see the look on Kurusu's face, but he figured it was something equally kind, perhaps respectful, or something equally disgusting.

Gorou was aware of something snapping in himself then—he couldn't say quite what it was, not at first. But he felt it rushing out of him in waves to fill the whole area around them.

Then suddenly, Kurusu's phone dinged, and he pulled it out of his pocket to check his messages. “Sorry,” he said to Mr. Sakura, and he leaned over to fiddle with it.

While Kurusu was busy with his phone, Mr. Sakura leaned over to look past his shoulder, and his eyes met with Gorou's. “Akechi Gorou?” he said.

Kurusu's phone made a noise, then, different from the message alert ding, and his head whipped around the door to see Gorou standing outside the door.

Immediately, Gorou realized what had happened. Shit.

He bolted.

xxx

Gorou had been aware for a long time that he carried the seeds of a Palace within himself—a sort of proto-Palace, if you will. There had, in fact, been times when it had fully manifested itself—but if the master of a Palace was aware of what was going on, and had the sort of power Gorou had, it was possible for him to squelch that side of himself, somewhat, with a little willpower.

Most of the time, his own Palace had remained vague, blurry, and inaccessible to anyone but himself. He had entered it before, of course, to see what it was. It had never been stable enough to explore fully, but he'd seen enough of it to know that he really didn't want to spend much time in there.

But if Kurusu's app had reacted to his name, that meant that his world had manifested as a full-fledged, stable Palace—one that the Phantom Thieves could break into.

All the plans Gorou had worked out, every single scheme and strategy vanished from his mind to be replaced by the single-minded thought that he had to get away, now. He had to put some distance between himself and the Phantom Thieves so he could spend a few calm hours, or days, or weeks, if necessary, banishing this fucking Palace.

Gorou ran back out into the rain, straight for the station, and got into the first taxi he saw, instructing the driver to take him to his apartment. He would go home, pick up some necessities, and get the hell out of Tokyo—not too far, but far enough. Maybe Chiba. He'd always wanted to go to Mother Farm.

By the time Gorou stepped out of the taxi in front of his apartment building, the rain was absolutely pouring, and he could swear the temperature had dropped more than a few degrees. He fumbled with his key at the door, shivering, before he finally got inside.

He took the elevator—no time for healthy choices today—up to his apartment near the top. Not the penthouse, of course—like hell he could afford that—but it was high up enough that he could have a nice view.

Once Gorou stumbled into his 1K, he started to think that perhaps going without an umbrella had been unwise, and perhaps all those moments of nausea that afternoon hadn't been purely psychological. He felt hot, despite being sopping wet, and when the next flash of nausea hit his stomach, he barely managed to make it to the toilet in time to vomit up all his lunch into the bowl.

Shit, shit, shit…

He didn't have time for this. He wiped off his mouth, flushed the toilet and took a gulp of water straight from the tap to wash away the taste before staggering to the bed, stripping off his wet clothes as he went. He hated leaving things on the floor, but this wasn't the time for that. He was already starting to feel lightheaded.

Once he had everything off, he somehow pulled up himself up to the bunk above the storage space to his bed. He kept some of his necessities at the head of the bed—emergency cash, phone charger, etc.

But once he was up there, on his hands and knees (he couldn't lift his head up too high, or he'd hit the ceiling), getting down again seemed like an insurmountable task. He had some Tylenol in the cabinet in the bathroom. Why hadn't he taken some when he was there?

He was still trying to psyche himself into getting down from the bunk when he passed out.

xxx

The moment Akechi bolted, Akira ran after him out of the cafe—without a jacket, into the rain.

The guy was no Ryuuji, but he was surprisingly fast for a guy Akira had initially assumed lead a fairly sedentary lifestyle. Of course, Akira knew now that Akechi was hiding quite a lot from them, including how fucking fast he could run.

When Akechi sped away in a taxi, Akira swore, then immediately called Futaba.

“On it,” she said the moment he picked up. “You didn't have to run after him. Come on, you know I bugged his phone.”

Akira felt rather sheepish. “Oh. Yeah.”

“You can come back now. Everyone's coming anyway.”

With a sigh, Akira stowed his phone and jogged back to Leblanc.

xxx

“Akechi has a Palace now?” Ryuuji moaned, leaning back with his feet on the table at Leblanc. Soujirou would have been pissed to see that. “Does this mean we have to do him and Niijima?”

“It looks like it,” Makoto answered dourly, arms crossed where she sat across from Ryuuji. “We have enough time. Barely.”

“Did he have one before, or is this a new thing?” Ann wondered. She was sitting on a tall seat at the bar, facing the group at the table.

“He couldn't have had one before,” said Morgana from his position seated plop in the middle of the table. “Or the nyavi would've reacted whenever someone said his name.”

“So he just spontaneously came up with one? Does that happen?” Ann sounded skeptical.

“How else would it happen?” Ryuuji shot back. “D'you think they grow slow, like asparagus?”

“Palaces, growing like asparagus…” Haru's eyes seemed to wander far away from where she sat in her corner seat at the table.

“Why asparagus?” asked Ann.

“Asparagus grows slow, don't it?!” Ryuuji said defensively.

“How would you know? Do you even eat vegetables?”

“Hey!”

“Let's get back on track,” Makoto sighed. “Futaba, you know where Akechi is, correct?”

“Of course,” Futaba said proudly. She sat cross-legged on a bar stool beside Ann. “Got him right there, pinging on my Soliton radar.”

“Soliton radar?” Haru seemed confused, as did Yuusuke, sitting beside her.

“Ignore her ancient references,” said Akira, standing beside Futaba, and he got a bonk on the head to pay for it.

“It's okay, Futaba!” Ryuuji cried. “I got the reference!”

“Anyway,” Makoto interrupted, her tone just a touch more annoyed. “So we should go as soon as possible. It seems to me he's looking to escape us, so he might not even stay within the metropolitan area.”

“Naw,” said Futaba, shaking her head. “He's been staying at the same GPS point for a while now. It's kinda weird. He hasn't moved around, even a little.”

That alarmed Akira. He looked at Futaba. “What do you mean?”

“I mean what I said. He hasn't moved for like, an hour, not even a little. I dunno what he's doing. He hasn't touched his phone at all, that's all I can say.”

“Makoto's right. We should go. Now,” said Akira. “Something could have happened. Where is he?”

Futaba pulled out her phone, tapped in a few things, and showed the screen to Akira. “Here. This is definitely his apartment—I confirmed that a while ago.”

Suddenly, Yuusuke spoke, after being silent this whole time. “It couldn't be that Shidou found out he's been exposed…and dealt with him?”

None of them said anything.

xxx

The eight of them all stood huddled under a collection of umbrellas in front of the 20-storey building that was apparently the place where Akechi Gorou lived. It wasn't in the nicest part of the city—they had passed more than a few dubious hostess clubs and love hotels on the way here, plus a sketchy-looking “information” booth staffed by the the kind of guy you'd never want to ask information from.

But the building was tall, the tallest around, in fact. At least the place would have a good view.

“I've realized a problem, guys,” said Futaba suddenly. “I don't think we can break into this place in the real world.”

“Can't you just like…hack through the door?” said Ryuuji.

“I'm flattered you think I'm that leet,” said Futaba, “but obviously not. Duh. It's an old-fashioned lock and key.” She pointed to the glass doors in front of them.

“…Oh.” Ryuuji looked embarrassed.

“The Palace will be there as long as he's alive,” said Morgana, “so if we get into his Palace, we'll know he's okay, for nyeow.”

“So we go in that way,” said Ryuuji. “Uhh…then, keywords? as usual, he was just blurting out whatever came to mind. At least he was on topic, this time.

“We've spent enough time around him,” Ann pointed out. “We know more about him than we did about any of our other targets.”

“I dunno,” Ryuuji replied. “I feel like everything he said around us was just acting. I mean, we know he was planning to stab us in the back, right? So he was basically hiding everything important from us.”

“It's not possible to hide absolutely everything about yourself,” Makoto said firmly. “He must have dropped something, somewhere. We already know he makes mistakes.”

“Like the pancake thing,” Morgana nodded.

“So then…how do you think he sees the world?” Yuusuke mused. 

“Well…” Makoto trailed off. “He's been acting, so…a stage?” No reaction from the navi.

“Aw,” Haru said. “I wish it had been a stage. That would have been so poetic.”

“Very Shakespeare,” Makoto agreed.

“A theatrically-themed Palace might have been quite interesting, aesthetically speaking,” added Yuusuke.

“Huh?” Ryuuji seemed confused by their whole conversation. “Nah, I don't think it's anything like that. He's all into that detective stuff, right? So then it's gotta be something detective-themed.”

“Like a detective office?” Ann mused. “Or a crime scene? A…locked room mystery?”

“The Mouri Detective Agency!” Futaba cried.

“I doubt he's that into Conan,” sighed Ann.

“Wait, you read Conan?” Ryuuji asked Ann, incredulous.

“Of course I do!” Ann snapped. “Everybody does!” She smiled. “I mostly read it for Ai, I'll admit. But what did you think I read, Ryuuji?”

“Uh…fashion magazines?”

“Agh…”

“Prison,” Akira said suddenly. The world around them rippled.

“Whoa!” Ryuuji jumped. “That was sudden! But nice!”

“How'd ya figure that meowt, Joker?” Morgana asked.

Akira gave a tight smile. “Saw it in a dream.” The others just stared at him. “Never mind. Let's go.”

He activated the navi, and they slid into the other world.

xxx

The stark stone tower that loomed before them now was taller than the apartment that had been there before. Much taller.

“Do we gotta climb that?” Skull yelped.

“It doesn't seem like the sort of prison that would have an elevator…” Queen said.

Indeed, it didn't. The drab grey tower had no windows or any decoration at all on the outside, and only one small door at the bottom. And it went up. And up. And up. Its surroundings were eerily bleak, and it was raining in this world, just as it had been in the real world.

“Let's go,” Joker said, and the rest of the Thieves followed.

Unsurprisingly, the front door was bolted shut and guarded to the gills by what looked like the shadow version of burly-looking prison guards, so they went around the back, like good Phantom Thieves should.

Seeing the guards, Joker shivered. They were dressed a little too much like his own nighttime jailers for comfort. At least his were, well, smaller and cuter.

They broke in through what appeared to be a garbage chute to drop into the tower at ground level—or at least, it had looked like ground level from the outside. Once inside, they found themselves in a massive open, circular room, the entire middle section an hole that descended downward into an underground pit, as well as upwards, into the little circle of sky, far above, with no roof to speak of. From their position, they could see that all the walls of the cylindrical tower were lined with prison cells, each one filled with its own shadow prisoner, chained and garbed in black-and-white, while the narrow, open walkways that were situated in front of the cells were patrolled by shadow guards. From their position, the party could hear the prisoners: some were moaning, some grumbling, some banging against the bars of their cells, some screaming. Most of them, however, were silent. At least the prisoners all seemed to look like normal humans.

And the prison was cold. Uncomfortably cold. Joker shivered a little. The interior of the prison was foggy, and the fog seemed to get thicker the higher the tower went.

“Well, this is disturbing,” said Skull. Joker couldn't have agreed more.

“It's a Panopticon,” murmured Noir.

“A what?” 

“A Panopticon,” Queen explained. “A type of prison—though a real one has never actually been built. It's only ever been designed, as a prototype. It's built so that all the prisoners can see each other, and nothing anyone does is secret.” She paused, and added, “Really, the term is only ever used metaphorically, to refer to things like the media, and social networking…”

“That…makes sense for him,” Panther murmured.

“This ain't just a metaphor, here,” Skull groaned.

xxx

It didn't take long for them to find the stairs. Each level of the prison was connected by a flight of steps in such a way that they would have to circle around and around each and every level in order to ascend the tower.

Unfortunately, the door to the stairs was firmly locked (of course). Affixed above said door was what looked like a security monitor—it seemed somewhat out of place in such an old-fashioned looking prison. When Joker tried to force the door, the monitor suddenly flashed on.

It was a close up of Akechi Gorou's face—or rather, his shadow's face, as was made clear by his glowing yellow eyes. “You're not permitted in this facility,” he said.

“Yeah, we know,” said Panther with a handwave, her other hand on her hip. “That's kinda the point.”

“No one is allowed to exit or enter this facility,” Shadow Akechi said in a tight, clipped tone. “Intruders will be imprisoned.”

“You could try,” Fox suggested mildly.

“Don't egg him on,” Skull winced.

“Guards,” Shadow Akechi instructed. “Detain them.”

Shadow guards ran up from behind them, and the party was forced to fight.

xxx

And after some battling, then some discussion and thinking, the Thieves determined that they had to go down the stairs to get the key from a higher-ranking shadow guardsman.

“Why do Palaces always have so many fetch quests?” Navi mused as they made their way windingly downward, fighting off shadow jailers along the way.

“I know, right? And puzzles!” Skull agreed with a sigh.

As the others were bantering, Joker couldn't keep his mind from wandering. Thinking about what this Palace might mean for Akechi. This whole place felt eerily familiar to him, and it struck him again—not for the first time—that he and Akechi might have more in common than he realized.

Did Akechi also dream of Igor? Or did he see something else? Something worse? This place certainly seemed worse.

Suddenly, Joker was shaken out of his thoughts by a scream. He looked up, glanced around at his friends, and saw them looking at each other and him. It hadn't been one of them.

The scream had come from above, and shot down into the pit beneath them.

“What just happened?” Joker asked the others.

“I think…” Noir began hesitantly. “Someone jumped.”

“No way,” gasped Panther.

“Was it an escapee?” wondered Skull. “A shadow prisoner got outta their cell and tried to get away?”

“I don't think shadows can escape from a Palace,” Mona said.

“They did escape…in another sense of the word,” Fox commented darkly.

xxx

That was the first jumper they heard, but it wouldn't be their last. One seemed to fall at least every twenty minutes, coming down with a piercing shriek.

“Is it just me,” Panther was whispering, for some reason, as they continued making their way downward, “but have all of the jumpers been women?”

Queen nodded. “You're right. Those were all womens' screams.”

“Do you think someone's throwing 'em off?” Skull speculated.

“I really don't want to think about it,” Panther moaned.

xxx

“Meow, this is it,” said Mona. “We're at the bottom.” It was really dark down here, but there were torches on the walls all around, lighting things up enough that they could see the ground at their feet, at least.

The cat hit the final step of the stairs, then scampered forward a few meters to the stone lip of what looked like a giant pit, and peered down. He was silent for a moment. “Myaaa…guys. You might wanna…look at this.”

Joker was right behind Mona, jogging up to the lip of the pit. He looked down.

The pit was filled with the bodies of more women than Joker could possibly count. No—not just women. He looked closer, kneeling to get a better look. There was something similar about them all. They weren't dressed like prisoners, for one—they were all wearing the same cocktail dress. They all had hair of about the same length—long, brown, and curly. And when Joker squinted hard enough, focusing with his other sense—he could see they all had the same face. “They're all the same woman.”

He was staring down at a pit of clones, and the whole pit was crawling with shadows. Among them was a guardsmen who looked larger and tougher than those above had.

“Is that the one we gotta beat?” Skull squeaked. Joker looked to the side to see the others had joined him on the lip and were all looking downward into the pit.

“Looks like it,” said Mona.

“I don't want to go down there,” Ann said, sounding sincerely nauseated.

“Me, either,” Haru agreed fervently.

xxx

Eventually, they concocted a plan to lure the boss guardsman out of the pit, defeated it, got the key, and began the long, long trek back up again.

“Just think of this as leg day, Skull,” Panther said, the next time he whined about the stairs.

“Who do you think I am?!” Skull shot back. “Every day is leg day for me. I got this.”

At this point, however, Navi was clearly lagging. She'd gotten in better shape lately, but she was still fundamentally a scrawny NEET.

“Let's break for a minute,” Joker said when they reached ground level again. “There's a safe room here.”

xxx

In the safe room, as the others discussed, Akira found himself getting lost in thought again. What did it mean that this Palace had appeared now? What could have triggered it? It seemed Akechi had been eavesdropping on them from outside the cafe. So had it been something they said then? Or had it happened earlier, somewhere else, and Akechi had just happened to be there at the right moment?

And all those bodies at the bottom of the prison pit… Their faces had born clear resemblance to Akechi. Nobody else was saying anything—maybe it had been too dark for them to notice, or maybe they were trying not to think about it—but Akira was convinced it was Akechi's mother. Akechi had mentioned she had killed herself. (Was that something you'd normally reveal to a casual acquaintance?) So was that how she'd died? A fall? Did this mean that Akechi was constantly reliving it in his mind, over and over again?

“…Joker. Joker!” Joker jumped in his sead. Mona was talking to him. “Are you okay? You've hardly said a word since we came to this place.”

“…Yeah. I'm fine.” Joker nodded, slowly. There was no use sitting here thinking about it. They had to get up to the top of the tower. There would be answers there.

xxx

Once they made it through that locked door, the guards' tactics started to change. They became more strategic, cutting in between the Thieves with fast, surprise attacks to break up their formations. It quickly became apparent what their goal was.

“Keep close,” said Joker. “they're trying to split us up.”

As they ascended the tower, they began to notice that there were security cameras on the walls—everywhere.

“If this jail is already that pan thingy, why do they need cameras, too?” Panther wondered.

“Panopticon,” said Skull smugly.

“Oh, whatever, you just learned that word, too.”

“I suppose they're just driving in the message that we're being watched,” said Fox. “Besides, haven't you noticed? It's gotten a lot foggier up here. I can't even see across to the cells on the other side, anymore.”

He was right. The fog here had gotten so thick, it prevented them from seeing up any higher. Maybe that was the point—to hide everything above.

The whole environment was eerie: the temperature, the fog, the way their footsteps echoed loud on the stone walkways, and the long, long way down. It was starting to get to Joker. Up here, there were more security monitors, too, flashing Akechi's face as he gave orders to the guards.

“Why do you keep clinging to eat other so persistently?” Shadow Akechi's face demanded from yet another security monitor. “It won't gain you anything, in the long run.” 

Even when they ignored him, his voice followed them through monitor after monitor. “Do you think you're going to turn me? Have me repent, turn me into one of the gang? Forget it.” He said with some vitriol. “No amount of mind-control induced repentance or guilt would ever cause me to join your foolish little cause. So you can drop the naivete. This isn't Jump magazine. Defeat doesn't mean friendship in the real world. It just means it's all over.”

And up. And up.

“Don't look down,” Panther reminded everyone, but it sounded more like she was talking to herself.

“I wasn't, until you told me not to!” Skull's voice had a slightly hysterical edge to it. It was a long, long way down, and the railings along the walkways and stairs were…nonexistent.

“Don't be such a chicken, Skull.” Mona was scampering up the stone steps with seemingly nary a care in the world.

“You mean…a scaredy-cat?” Noir giggled at her own joke.

“How rude! Cats aren't scared of heights. …Neowt that I'm a cat.”

They reached what looked like a major landing, only to be greeted by more security monitors.

Shadow Akechi's face appeared before them again. “Do you think there's something special about you and your little “friends”? You know your relationship is just a matter of convenience. Similarly aligned motives. The moment those motives are in conflict, it's over. You won't want the same things forever. And do you know what sort of sacrifices they might be willing to make to get what they want? Haven't you already made some moral compromises for your own goals? Do you think they wouldn't do the same if circumstances turned them against you?”

“Don't listen to him,” Noir said firmly.

“Whatever, it's all bullshit, anyway,” Skull scoffed.

And up. And up. And up.

At this point, everyone was starting to slow down, but Navi was lagging back further than ever, panting her way up the steps, but she insisted they keep going. “We're…getting close…to the top.”

Akechi's voice over the security monitors began to sound more tense. “Quit this already! Do you think this whole charade will accomplish anything? Do you think it will change the way the world works? You mind-control me, you mind-control Shidou, and then what? Are you going to make your way through the whole political world? Through every member of the Diet, through every CEO, through every yakuza boss? It's bigger than you, it's bigger than me. I just play the game. You can't clear the board entirely. Nobody can.”

And up. And up. And up and up.

Akechi's voice sounded different, now, and the monitors were off, producing an audio-only feed. Did he not want to reveal his face? His voice sounded weaker, resigned.

“Just…stop. Turn around. Go back. You can't change me.”

One more flight up, and they saw this floor was special—there were eight cells on this floor, seven of which contained shadow versions of each of them—all except Joker. They were all struggling in their cells, trying to knock down the bars, or slip through them, or discussing how they might escape. There was even a special, miniature cell for Morgana. But they all looked like their normal, every day forms, and weren't wearing their Phantom Thief get-ups.

“Could we let them all out, to have them help us?” Noir wondered. “Imagine, double the numbers!”

Mona shook his head. “Neow, we don't have the keys. We have to go up for that. And besides…” the cat paused to think a moment, and then continued, sounding a bit unsure. “I don't think it's possible for shadow selves to have Purrsonas.”

“I guess that makes sense?” Panther tilted her head.

The door that lead to the next level up featured a little loudspeaker in front of it, with no monitor. It crackled. “…Please…don't come in,” was all it said. And then it cut off. There was nothing else. No guards, nothing.

“I'm kinda starting to feel bad for the guy,” Skull said, scratching the back of his head. “He doesn't sound good.”

“I would be careful about that,” said Queen. “We know he's working for Shidou…we don't know what sort of things he might be capable of, or might have done.”

Joker pushed open the stone door to find himself on the very top floor of the tower. He was standing on a glass floor, with the whole Panopticon exposed beneath him. The moment he stepped onto the top step, all the flog in the tower vanished, leaving their surroundings clear as day, and looking down into that forever hole was dizzying. To either side, the walls only went up seven feet or so, and above them was open sky and nothing else.

It seemed there was only one cell here. It contained various forms of computer equipment on a desk, a small bed on the ground, and little else. And Akechi Gorou was in it.

“Wait…he's in a cell? I kinda thought he'd be the jailer.” Skull was confused, but this—this was nothing more than what Joker had expected.

There was a buzzer sound, and Shadow Akechi's cell door opened. He stepped out calmly, wearing the same sort of antiquated black-and-white prison uniform Joker wore in his own dreams. 

He didn't approach the Phantom Thieves, however. He turned to the left. An electronic door opened out of the rock face with a ding like an elevator, and a woman stepped out—despite how it appeared there was nothing at all behind the wall where that door was. She wore a red cocktail dress, and had long, dyed and curled brown hair. Young-looking. She was smiling.

Akechi approached her, and offered his arm like a gentleman, then guided her to the center of the room, where Joker noticed now that there was a hole in the glass floor about a couple meters wide. Akechi gestured that she stand by the edge of the hole, and she obediently did so. Then he gave her a light push, and she fell. Screaming.

“See?” said Shadow Akechi, facing Joker with a beaming grin. “It's that easy.” He then walked back to his cell and sat down at the desk before his computer again, and the cell door swung shut. Buzzer sound. Lock.

“What the shit?” Skull squeaked. “He's the one making that pile of bodies? Is this lady someone he's killed?”

Joker couldn't really see Navi's face behind her goggles, but he could tell from her body language that the scene had rattled her. “I don't think…he actually killed her. I don't think so at all.” Joker exchanged a look with her, and he put a hand on her shoulder. Her head turned to the floor.

“Wait, look,” said Noir. She was pointing. “There's another cell.”

Joker looked up, striding across the room to see that there was another cell, right next to Akechi's. Its door was so small, he hadn't noticed it before—you'd have to squeeze through sideways to get through it. And its prisoner was sitting hunched in the very back.

It was Akira.

“You don't have to do this, you know,” said Shadow Akira, through the bars.

“Yes, I do,” Shadow Akechi called back at him. There was something tired about this conversation, as if they'd had it many times already. “You know I have to.”

“You don't!” Shadow Akira yelled back. He pushed forward to the front of his cell, sliding sideways to thrust an arm out through the bars. “Come on, Joker! You can make him understand! Get him out of here!”

Being confronted with this shadow perception of himself was disorienting. This shadow looked just like Akira did in his own dreams of being a prisoner. It felt as if Akechi could read his mind, just like he'd joked about.

Panther walked up to Shadow Akira's cell, examining him. “He looks almost like you. But…” she tilted her head and took another step closer. “Is it just me, or does he look…kinda…better?”

“Huh?” Joker was taken aback.

“Hey, you're right!” Navi said, from Joker's other side. “His face is more symmetrical, and he doesn't do that weird eye thing.”

“Weird…eye thing?” Joker muttered, confused.

Of course, Skull had to join in, too. “Yeah, and he's definitely more buff than you. Shadow Akira works out, man. I can tell.”

“Hey,” Joker protested. He was starting to feel offended. “I'm right here.”

“But why would Akechi's perceived version of you be more attractive than the real you?” Fox pondered.

“Well,” said Noir, “That's what happens when you're in love with someone. They look so beautiful to you.”

Everyone turned around to stare at her.

“What?” she said, looking around at all their masked faces. “I mean, isn't that what all of you assumed, too?”

Skull and Mona were sputtering. Fox put a thoughtful hand to his chin. Queen looked taken aback, Panther was looking over at Shadow Akechi's cell, and Navi…well, Navi looked like she was already writing mental fanfiction.

Joker found himself taking slow steps toward Akechi's cell, stopping just a couple meters away.

“It's true,” Shadow Akechi said in a calm, matter-of-face voice, facing the computer at his cell and clacking away. “I won't deny it. I'm in love with you, Joker. I can't stop thinking about you. I look forward to seeing you. I look for excuses to run into you. I find myself following you with my eyes, watching you, in spite of myself. I have fantasies about being with you. You've been the main subject of my masturbation fantasies for months, in fact.

Joker heard one of the Phantom Thieves make a choked noise at that, but his eyes were locked on Shadow Akechi only.

Shadow Akechi stopped typing, turned around in his rotating desk chair, and smiled. Then he stood up, kicked the chair over, and slammed the bars of his cell with both fists. Startled, Joker jumped backward.

Akechi leaned against the bars, pressing his forehead against them as his face twisted in an expression of rage. “But none of that fucking compares to how much I hate you.”

Joker couldn't move. He stood there, staring at Shadow Akechi, still unable to parse a reaction to what the shadow was telling him. All he could do was sit there, stare, and listen to Akechi hiss at him.

“I hate you. I hate your stupid fucking website. I hate your fans. I hate how some fucking juvenile delinquent with a criminal record thinks he can shoot up to being the peoples' darling in only a matter of months. I hate your friends. I hate seeing you talk to them, spend time with them, trust them, smile with them.”

The words came out of Akechi's mouth in a stream that only rose in pitch and intensity. “I hate your idealism! I hate your hope! I hate how you think you can change anything! I hate every single fucking person you've ever spoken to, every single person who's ever spoken to you! I hate you for the time you grabbed my hand when I was about to leave Leblanc and asked me to stay and hang out with you! I hate that you made me want to say yes!”

Akechi slammed the bars again, but Joker didn't back up this time. He stepped forward.

“I hate…I hate your stupid fucking found family. I hate you…and Futaba…and I hate, hate Mr. Sakura.” Joker's eyes widened, and he stepped forward to put his hands on the bars—next to Akechi's, but not touching. 

Akechi's voice dropped to a whisper, only for Joker's ears. “I hate that you have a father who loves you…when all I have is Shidou.” 

He pulled his weight off the bars, then, stepping back. And he yelled as loud as he could. “SHIDOU!”

A moment of silence. Then the door made that elevator ding sound, and slid open. The Thieves's heads all whipped around to see Shidou walk out—dressed in the same jailer's uniforms as all the other guardsmen.

“Is this the final boss?” Skull quipped, as they all readied themselves for a fight.

Shadow Shidou stepped forward coolly, beckoning to Akechi with one hand. “Come on, boy,” he said, and instantly, the door to Akechi's jail cell opened, and Akechi stepped out, striding toward Shidou.

Reflexively, without even thinking, Joker grabbed his hand. Akechi stopped, and looked back, and gave Joker a look that Joker couldn't put words to. Then he shook off Joker's grip and continued toward Shidou.

Akechi walked up to Shidou, and Shidou pulled something that looked like…a horse's harness? Out of thin air, and slipped it around Akechi's head, fitting the bit in his mouth. Akechi took it all obediently, and settled down on all fours for Shidou to fit a saddle on him, too.

“He's not…gonna ride Akechi…like a horse?” Skull said, incredulous.

“That's…quite disgusting,” said Yuusuke.

But the moment Jailer Shidou sat himself down on Akechi's back, they both transformed—Akechi into a giant, eight-legged horse, and Shidou into a Nordic-looking, one-eyed warrior.

In a twisted, distorted voice, the shadow Shidou cried for their arrest.

xxx

The fight was brutal, and only force of habit was keeping Akira focused at all, his body acting on its own. He was more rattled than he'd ever been, fighting a shadow like this. His distraction led to him taking hit after hit after hit—and his allies were taking some of the hits for him.

“C'mon, man, snap out of it!” Skull yelled at his back. 

He was right. And Joker knew what he had to do.

“Cover me,” he told Queen, and she nodded, casting a defensive barrier on him, and he made a bum rush—away from the horse its rider that was flinging lightning bolts everywhere, instead clambering up the bars of Akechi's jail cell and the uneven rock wall, right up to the ceiling. The shadow didn't have time to look at him; it was too busy dealing with Panther's fire and Fox's ice—and failed to see Joker launching himself at the horse and rider from above.

The rider wasn't the real target. The rider wasn't real. Joker went for the horse, slamming down in front of the rider from above, wrapping his arms around the horses' thick neck to stab his dagger straight into its jugular and rip sideways.

The horse screamed and gushed black and white-striped blood, collapsing to its knees, but Akira held on until the gushing stopped…and finally, the horse and rider evaporated, leaving Shadow Akechi in his arms.

Even knowing this was just a shadow, even knowing this wasn't real, Joker found himself unable to let go of Akechi. He hugged him close, burying his face in Akechi's neck, feeling his hair tickle his cheeks. How could a shadow feel so warm, feel so real? He forgot where he was and just clung to the still body in his hands. 

Nobody said anything.

“…Akira.” Shadow Akechi opened his piercing yellow eyes. “What are you even…doing?” he spoke slowly, as if exhausted. Joker pulled back to look at his face. “You know…I hate you…”

“I know,” Joker buried his face in Akechi's neck again. “I know. It's okay.”

Shadow Akechi gave a dry laugh. “You know…I might be starting…to love you…more than…I hate you.”

They were interrupted by a thud.

Joker and all the other Phantom Thieves turned around. The door to the top floor had just been slammed shut, and someone was standing in front of it.

It looked like another Persona-user, all clad in black and masked. Panther gasped. “Is that…?” She didn't need to say it. They were all thinking the same thing. This had to be the black-masked figure that they'd heard hints of before.

He wasn't looking all that intimidating, though. He was bent over and panting, and seemed somehow unsteady on his feet. But the his gun arm, at least, was steady, as he pointed it straight at Joker. “It's time to end this little charade,” he said, and the voice that came out of his mouth was Akechi Gorou's.

“Akechi?!” said Skull. All of the Thieves stared at the black-clad figure in shock.

“It seems like it,” said Mona. “So he's finally showing his true colours.”

“Literally,” Skull added.

But before the black-clad Akechi could shoot, Shadow Akechi moved. “No!” he cried, and he shoved Joker to the ground, covering Joker with his body. 

Noticing the presence of his own shadow, the real Akechi's eyes widened behind his mask. “What is that?”

“It's your shadow, Akechi!” Mona informed him smugly. “The ruler of your Palace. This is him—and we just kicked his butt!”

Akechi ignored the cat, but took a few steps forward toward the Shadow Akechi and Joker on the ground, his gun up and levelled whole time. Nobody moved.

“Gorou,” said the Shadow, looking up at the real Akechi with pitiful eyes. “Please don't do this. I beg of you. You don't really want this. You want him to accept you. You wish you could be a part of the Phantom Thieves.”

Akechi's pointed, black mask made his expression unreadable. “Shut up.”

“You're completely infatuated with him,” the shadow continued unfazed, and as it spoke, something about its tone changed from pitiful to accusing, and the more confident it became, the tenser the real Akechi seemed to become. “There's such a thin line between love and hate, after all, you just misunderstand how you really feel. Just like with Shidou. Daddy issues. How cliched.”

“Stop. Talking.” Akechi was shifting his aim around slightly as the Shadow spoke, trying to get a shot at Joker, but the Shadow wouldn't give him line of fire, always reacting a split-second faster. And Akechi had to realize that shooting his own Shadow would be extremely foolish.

“Daddy issues?” Noir wondered aloud.

“Oh, yes, that's right. Shidou is my father, by blood,” the Shadow declared, a twisted grin on its face. “You tell yourself this is all part of some complicated revenge scheme for mommy's suicide, Gorou, but we both know the truth. It's your fault she died, and you're just trying to get daddy's approval.”

“Enough!” Akechi yelled. His gun hand was shaking, now, and it was clear he wasn't capable of shooting anything, at this point.

“He's never going to care about you, you know,” Shadow Akechi said, standing up, and Joker didn't stop it. He wasn't sure if he should, or what would happen to Akechi's mind should he intervene. All of them were frozen, witnessing the confrontation between Akechi and his shadow. “Because he's a psychopath. He lives to use people. No matter how many people you kill for him, he's never going to love you. You just become more and more like him: a piece of shit. It must be in your blood.”

“SHUT UP!” Akechi fired, and Joker flinched, but his shaking arm through his aim way off, and the bullet pinged harmlessly off the wall.

“You idiot!” Mona cried. “If you shoot your own shadow, you'll destroy your own mind!”

“Oh, we know that already, don't we?” Shadow Akechi crowed, striding up to his counterpoint to stand just an arm's length away and leer at the real Akechi. “How many people's minds have you destroyed so far, in just this very fashion? It would be fitting enough for you to end this way, too. You're past the point of no return. There's no saving you. So shoot me. You know it would be better for the Phantom Thieves to win, better for the world if you were dead, anyway.” The Shadow took one more step up to Akechi, grabbed him by the chin, and said in a low voice that was still loud enough for everyone around to hear, “Because nobody wants you. And I am you, and you are me.”

“Akechi...” Joker murmured, getting to his feet.

Akechi stood there, trembling, for a long moment. Then with a slow deliberation, he slapped his Shadow's grip away and said, “You're. Not. Me.”

“Oh, nyo…” Mona said. “I've got a feeling he shouldn't have said that…”

Shadow Akechi's yellow eyes flashed, and he grinned, baring sharp fangs. “Aha ha ha…aha ha ha HA HA HA!” He cackled. “Yes…I am.”

The whole room shook, and the Shadow Akechi's body exploded into the gigantic, monstrous form of a a triple-headed horse.

“Another giant shadow monster…?” Panther moaned.

The real Akechi tried to jump back, but it was too late. The horse's middle head, a seedy, weak-looking thing, shot out with surprising speed to catch Akechi in its jaws and swallow him whole before he even had the time to scream.

But Joker screamed for him. “Akechi!” He cried, dashing straight for the horse. 

But Fox grabbed him by the back of his jacket. “Wait. Calm down, Joker.”

Mona nodded. “If we want to save Akechi, we have to defeat this shadow!”

They were right. Joker breathed a deep breath, and took a good look at their opponent. This horse, now riderless, was larger than the one they'd seen before, and much more monstrous—with one black, slobbering head, one white, muscular, and almost noble-looking head, with a third weak, seedy-looking head in between them. Before Joker had the time to make any other observations, the shadow charged.

xxx

It was a long fight. They were already exhausted from battling the previous shadow, and this one was faster, hit harder, and lasted longer.

When they finally brought it down, what remained after the shadow monster dissipated was just Shadow Akechi, standing there, with the real Akechi Gorou lying on his back, at his feet—no longer wearing that black costume, but what looked like…pyjama pants?

“Akechi!” Joker cried, running up to the pair of eerily identical figures to crouch down over the real one. He took him by the shoulders and shook him gently.

Akechi opened his eyes, looked up at Joker, and flinched away. He pushed himself to his knees, but couldn't seem to manage to stand yet. Joker offered him a hand, but Akechi determinedly ignored it, looking away from him and at his shadow.

Joker let his hand fall to his side.

“I should've known denying you…was a stupid move,” Akechi sighed.

“It was,” Shadow Akechi agreed. “You should have known better. You've read the research.”

“I've read the research,” Akechi agreed tiredly. “I still really hate you.” He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. “But I know…who I am.” With some difficulty, he forced himself to his feet, and took a step toward his shadow. “I am you…”

“…and you are me,” the shadow finished, then it vanished, replaced with a pair of crows that flapped, hovering in the air for a moment before they dove into Akechi's chest, then disappeared, leaving behind a black-and-white striped outfit that looked rather like a mish-mash of his previous white one and the black one he'd just revealed to them.

“So…no more Robin Hood?” Skull said, asking the most irrelevant question that nobody cared about.

Akechi smiled wryly. “No I feel like I can still summon him…and Loki,” he added.

“Loki?” Fox asked.

Akechi shook his head. “I'll explain later. For now…” he looked down, hesitating. “Could you…steal my treasure? I think you have to, or I'll never really…” he didn't finish, only giving a strange chuckle as he brought a hand to his face.

“Way ahead of you,” Mona chirped, and indeed, it seemed like the cat was holding something in his hands—a book? “Found it in your shadow's cell.”

“Wait, Mona—” Queen said. “If you have the treasure, then that means—”

The ground shook.

“We gotta haul ass outta here!” Skull said.

“How can we?!” Panther yelled to be heard over the sound of the building rumbles. “We're on the top floor, and this thing is like a hundred stories!”

“We could always jump?” Fox suggested.

“No!” Panther yelled back.

“I…have an idea,” Akechi. He looked all around the wall around them, and his eyes lighted on one particular spot. “Or more like a feeling, I suppose. This is my Palace, isn't it? And you know…I'm into bouldering.”

They all stared at him blankly as the rumbling grew louder.

He sighed. “Just…follow me.” He staggered over to that spot on the wall, and reached up to top of it. “Climb up right here, and look down.”

Mona hopped up to the ridge that was about seven feet above their feet and and looked down the outside wall. “There's a rock-climbing wall here, guys! We can climb straight down! But we've gotta hurry!”

The Phantom Thieves all started hopping over the wall and clambering down, despite much reluctance on Navi's part. “Th-this is really high…” she stuttered. “And I've never rock-climbed before…”

“Just go!” Noir prodded her. But she looked frankly terrified, too.

Joker gestured for everyone to go first, and he would bring up the rear. When it was just him and Akechi left, Akechi took a step back, away from the wall.

“I don't think I can make it down,” Akechi said. Joker noticed he was sweating and pale under his mask. He was pretty clearly sick, and being swallowed by his own shadow couldn't have helped. “Just go. It's only fitting that I go down in my own Palace.” He gave a twisted smile.

“No!” Joker said with a vehemence that seemed to surprise Akechi. “We don't have time for stupid arguments. And…” too fast for Akechi to react, he scooped the other boy up bridal-style into his arms. “the Phantom Thieves don't leave friends behind.”

Joker leaped up to the top of the wall, legs wavering as the whole tower rattled. “Hold tight around my neck so I can use one arm,” he ordered Akechi. Stunned, Akechi was left with no option but to acquiesce, wrapping his arms firmly around Joker's neck.

Then, with frankly logic-defying dexterity, Joker scrambled down the wall with one hand under Akechi's knees and the other on the wall, following after the other Phantom Thieves.

xxx

They were all tossed out again in front of Akechi's apartment building, back in the torrential rain, and all their umbrellas, it seemed, had been lost in the other world.

Akira sat there in a puddle for a moment, swiftly getting drenched and readjusting to the real world.

Fortunately, Haru was swift to react. “I'll call for my chauffeur.” She hopped under the overhang of the apartment, pulled out her phone and pushed something that had to be on auto-dial.

“A chauffeur?!” Ryuuji said. “Whoa. Guess I can't complain, though.” He shivered.

Akira helped Akechi to his feet, and Akechi, now back in his pyjama pants, took a few steps toward the apartment building before going, “…Ah.”

“What?” Akira said.

“…I don't have my keys.” Akechi wrapped his arms around himself, feeling rather foolish. He'd entered his Palace from inside the apartment, and hadn't been thinking about what would happen when he came out.

“You can come to my place,” Akira said, and he casually removed his jacket to give to Akechi.

“You know just how to make me feel like a lady,” Akechi said dryly, but he accepted the jacket. He was sick and half-naked, after all.

xxx

Akechi ended up passed out in Akira's bed for three days straight. Being sick on top of the conflict inside his Palace must have used him up. Akira called Doctor Takemi over to check on him, and her diagnosis was just exhaustion. 

In the meanwhile, Akira slept on his couch instead, and spent way too much time staring at Akechi in bed—the way his too-long hair stuck to his face, the way he slept curled up on his side…the fact that he still was naked under the covers. Akira had been the one to undress him—Akechi's pyjama pants and underwear and been soaked, and they'd had to go.

He begged Soujirou for a few of sick days off of school so he could take care of Akechi, and Soujirou gave in, reluctantly. “Just for a few days,” Soujirou told him. “You're going back to school within the week.”

Anxiously, Akira waited for Akechi to wake up.

xxx

Gorou woke up feeling surprisingly okay—three days of solid sleep would apparently do that to you. He had a gross taste in his mouth, but otherwise, he seemed to be over that flu.

He pushed himself slowly up, careful not to rise too high and hit his head on the ceiling—only to realize the ceiling wasn't there. He looked up. The ceiling was a lot higher than he was used do.

Looking around, he realized he was in Akira's room—in Akira's bed. As the memories of what had happened in his Palace slowly started arranging themselves in his mind, he sank back into the bed, hiding his face with the covers. Suddenly, he wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

Not only had his shadow had spilled his lengthy history of murder (shit shit shit) and every personal insecurity he'd been in denial about for basically all his life, it had also made it explicit to everyone and their cat that he was into guys, it had also been made explicit that he was into the very guy whose bed he was in right that moment. Naked. The fact that he was in Kurusu's bed made the third item on that list come to the forefront of his mind.

Yes, he was naked in Kurusu's bed, and currently suppressing the urge to roll around in it and huff the pillows.

He heard the thumping sound of someone coming up the stairs. “Huh? Akechi?” he heard Kurusu say, and Gorou could hear his soft footsteps approaching the bed.

Gorou was then faced with the choice to either continue to hide under the blankets and make himself look like a petulant child, or expose himself, literally and physically, to the person he most did not want to be facing right now.

It was extremely painful, but he managed to pull off the latter, lowering the blankets to just below his neck and pasting on his most serene smile. “Yes?”

“You're awake,” Kurusu said. Gorou looked at his face as he sat down on a chair beside the bed. Had that chair always been there? Kurusu seemed really happy about that. Gorou felt confused, momentarily, until Kurusu reached out to his cheek, and more memories of the events inside his Palace rearranged themselves within him. Memories of Kurusu, embracing his shadow self. Memories of Kurusu, scooping him up like a goddamn princess.

Gorou stifled the strangled yell he really wanted to make and pushed himself to sit up straight, away from Akira's hand—exposing his shirtlessness in the process. But that was okay. The important bits were covered. He could soldier through the intense, intense mortification and get himself some clothes and get away from Kurusu's touch. “Do you know where my clothes are?” he asked.

“Oh,” Kurusu said, and he got up to pad over to the shelf, and picked up a neatly-folded pair of slacks, a dress shirt, and blazer, plus socks and shoes. Even his cell phone, keys, and wallet were there. No gloves, though. “I spoke with your building manager, and she went in to grab this for you.” Kurusu handed him the stack.

“Thank you.” Gorou took the clothing, and then stared at Kurusu. Kurusu stared back. “Could you please leave, so I can change?”

“Oh!” Kurusu jumped, and backed away, spinning around to face the other way. “Yeah. Of course. Go ahead.” He scampered down the stairs.

Heaving a massive sigh of relief, Gorou pushed himself out of the bed and looked at the clothes in his hands only to realize, wait—there wasn't any underwear.

He got up, walking over to where Kurusu had picked up the stack of clothing from—there didn't seem to be any of his underwear there, either.

He looked back at the stack of his own clothing.

Then over at Kurusu's shelf, where he supposedly kept his own clothing.

xxx

Gorou came down the stairs into Leblanc, blazer, socks and shoes on and ready to go. Soujirou was there, but the cafe was empty of customers—which was nothing new. Kurusu was sitting on a bar stool, tapping at the bar over a cup of coffee that he seemed to be ignoring. When Akechi came down, his head jerked up, and Soujirou disappeared into the kitchen.

Gorou walked up to Kurusu, but still kept a safe distance away. “Thank you. For letting me rest here,” he said, then paused, considered saying something, then thought better of it and took a few steps toward the door instead. “I'll call you soon. I need to contact Shidou and tell him…something believable about my absence. Like…I had the flu, or something.” Avoiding Kurusu's eyes, Gorou strode toward the door.

“Wait,” Kurusu said, and grabbed his hand. 

Gorou really hated it when he did that. It made him really not want to go. 

“Aren't you gonna at least have a shower?” Kurusu blurted. “You were really gross and sweaty.”

Gorou blinked. He did feel, in fact, very gross and sweaty. But his urge to get dressed and out the door as fast as possible had been stronger.

“Another twenty minutes won't make it any worse,” Kurusu wheedled. “Have a shower, at least. And brush your teeth?”

Now that Kurusu mentioned it, his mouth did feel pretty disgusting, with the slight lingering aftertaste of two-day-old vomit. The thought of getting onto the train like this was becoming more and more disgusting. Gorou sighed. “You're right, I could really use a shower.”

Kurusu grinned back at him, and escorted him across the street to the sento—it seemed there was no bath in the building, but Kurusu paid his entrance at the sento, gave him a towel, and opened up a package with a fresh toothbrush for him, then bowed out to let Gorou go bathe.

Well, this was fine.

Once Gorou was all washed and his teeth were brushed, he left the sento right away. He didn't have the time to be soaking in the tub. Dressed again and feeling fresh, he took a step out of the building, hesitating, looking down at the towel in his hands. He didn't want to face Kurusu right then, but he should really take this towel back. He would look like a real idiot on the train carrying a wet towel.

Gorou slipped quietly into Leblanc, hoping to just leave this towel on the counter and sneak away—but no such luck. Kurusu was lying in wait for him behind the door and took the towel straight from his hands.

Gorou quickly turned away and made to head out the door again with a parting “See you,” but yet again, Kurusu was grabbing his hand, preventing him. And this time, Gorou was just about out of the strength of will needed to yank his hand away.

“Hey,” Kurusu said, tugging Gorou toward him. Gorou didn't come, so Kurusu moved forward instead, circling around so he was standing in front of Gorou. “One more thing, before you go.”

Gorou's eyes flicked up at Kurusu's face for just a second to see Kurusu leaning in toward him, stretching up and out of his usual hunch to plant a gentle kiss on Gorou's lips.

Involuntarily, Gorou's hand squeezed around Kurusu's, and Kurusu moved his whole body toward Gorou, grabbing his other hand in his and deepening the kiss.

Gorou's mouth was unresponsive, but his heart was pounding hard in his chest, and Kurusu had to be close enough to feel that. Kurusu broke the kiss, but his hands squeezed both Gorou's tight, beyond the point of comfort.

“I'm not letting go, this time,” Kurusu was looking down, but he spoke with surprising force.

Taken aback, Gorou could only respond with a forced laugh. “Am I in your prison now, then?”

“Yes,” Kurusu replied, straightforwardly and without hesitation, looking Gorou straight in the eye. “You're my prisoner.”

The raw honesty of that statement, Kurusu's ability to be that honest, caused thick jealousy to roil up within Gorou again. This was just the sort of thing that drew people to Kurusu, the reason people loved him. The reason Gorou loved him. And hated him.

“I think I've had enough of prisons,” Gorou said with a smile, as if it were a joke, and he forcefully shook off Kurusu's grasp, striding toward the door. “I'll text you later.”

“I know who you really are, now!” Kurusu yelled after him. “I know what you want! Why bother trying to hide it from me?!”

At the door, Gorou stopped. He picked his words carefully. “What I want…and what I'm capable of doing…are two different things.” Then he left.

xxx

“So…that didn't go so well?” Morgana slunk out from beneath the table at Leblanc. 

“No,” Akira answered shortly, and he stormed up the stairs.

In the kitchen, Soujirou sighed. “Teenagers.”

xxx

Akira sat down at his desk, attempting to distract himself by making infiltration tools, and it was almost working. Almost.

“Hey,” said Morgana, and the cat up hopped up on the edge of the desk.

“Not right now, Morgana,” Akira muttered, not looking at the cat.

Then there was a thump, and Akira turned around to see that Morgana had dropped a little paperback book on the desk. “What's this?” he asked, dropping the project he was working on to reach out to the book.

“It's Akechi's treasure. I've been holding onto it,” Morgana explained.

Feeling somewhat like he was doing something very invasive and yet unable to restrain his curiosity, Akira examined the book. Power, Ideals, and the Political Mind, it was titled, and the author was—Shidou Masayoshi. Akira flipped into the copyright page to see that it had been printed about a decade ago, right around the time Shidou had begun his political career.

And opposite the copyright page, on a blank page that was probably just there for printing reasons, was scrawled the message, Happy Birthday, Gorou. For my brightest boy. Love, Mom.

Now Akira really felt like he was intruding on something deeply personal. He snapped the book shut and laid it down on the desk. “I should give this back to him.”

xxx

Now that Akira was back in school, he spent a few days texting into a void and trying not to feel like a needy girlfriend. He managed to keep it down to five texts per day. Over the course of four days. Only twenty texts. Quite reasonable.

He just couldn't stop himself from replaying the words that Shadow Akechi had said over and over in his head. It'd better for the world if you were dead. Nobody wants you. The thought that Akechi would take these thoughts to their logical conclusion and end his life had kept him up just about every night since Akechi had left Leblanc. Futaba had said Akechi's phone GPS signal was moving around, so it seemed he was alive, but Akira needed to see him in person to quell his anxiety.

Akira had also considered asking Futaba to hack Akechi's phone for him, but thought better of it and decided to ambush Akechi outside his apartment instead. He'd rush straight over there after school, and make it there before Akechi got home himself.

It worked surprisingly well, and now Akira was standing in front of the door to Akechi's apartment building, starting at Akechi with a smug look on his face, breathing a massive internal sigh of relief that he tried his best not to let show, while Akechi wore an expression a tad more resigned.

“I'll let you in,” Akechi said, holding out his key.

xxx

Getting into Akechi's apartment had been surprisingly easy. Well, he was a Phantom Thief, after all—there was no place he couldn't get into with a little bit of slyness and persistence.

Akechi's apartment was tiny, and barren, largely devoid of much in the way of personal belongings or decoration.

“I haven't really lived here long,” Akechi said by way of explanation as he gestured to the hook where Akira could hang up his blazer, and the both of them took off their shoes. “Well, I've never really lived long anywhere, so I don't see the point in filling living spaces up with things I'm just going to have to get rid of.”

There wasn't even a trace of bitterness in his tone. He spoke matter-of-factly.

“Anyway, I've managed to explain myself to Shidou, and he doesn't seem suspicious of me, though of course, this is him we're talking about, so we should always remain wary. I would cautiously resume infiltration of Niijima's Palace. I'll pretend to betray you, of course, but I'll ensure you'll escape alive, in the end—or did you already have a plan for that?” He seemed to have picked up on the fact that they'd figured out about his sudden but inevitable betrayal.

Akechi waved at the one chair in the room, by the desk where Akechi's laptop sat. “You take take the chair. I'm sorry I don't have another. I'm not used to receiving guests.”

“You can talk about that later, when everyone is at Leblanc,” Akira said, rejecting the chair to stand opposite Akechi, who was leaning against the hotplate counter. “That's not what I came here for.”

“Then you're frankly wasting your time,” Akechi said dryly, his expression blank as he turned aside, looking away from Akira toward the window.

“This will never be a waste of time,” Akira insisted as he reached out for Akechi's hand, but Akechi yanked his hands away, holding them tight against his own chest. 

“…Fine.” Akira pulled away from him, instead reaching into his bag to pull out the book and hand it to Akechi. “Regardless, I came to give this to you.”

Confused, Akechi took the book. When he looked at the cover, his eyes widened. “But…I destroyed this.” He opened it up, flipped through the pages, and Akira could see the pages were dog-eared, the margins covered in hand-written notes. “Wait…” he stopped. “This…was my treasure, wasn't it?”

Akira nodded.

Suddenly Akechi's expression changed, turned dark, twisted. Before Akira could even react, Akechi wound up to fling the book at the back wall as hard as he could, with a yell.

Akira jumped a little, and Akechi turned back to him, expression sour. “Are you surprised? You should understand by now that the perfect, polite, and mannerly detective prince is only a mask for me.”

Akira did understand. But it was unusual to see Akechi here, in this seemingly normal outfit and situation, burst into a fit of rage.

“If I must be honest, I think I have narcissistic tendencies,” Akechi mused, his calm and tone and even, as if he were speaking of someone else. “I'm kind of a piece of shit.”

“You said that before,” Akira said dryly. “Or your shadow did.”

“Oh, really? I suppose it did.” Akechi plopped down into the desk chair he had only just offered Akira. “So what do you want to talk about, then? Let me use my famed deduction skills to find out. Oh, but you should know, that's all a sham, actually. I've staged pretty much every case I've ever solved. Playing the role of the criminal makes being a detective so much easier.” Akechi looked up at Akira was if gauging his reaction, measuring how much disgust could be detected in his expression.

But Akira wasn't judging. He just stood there, hands in his pockets, looking back at Akechi. “Why don't you tell me about the real Akechi Gorou?”

xxx

Gorou told him everything, expanding on what his shadow had revealed—that Shidou was his father and his mother had killed herself over it, about his time being bounced around various institutions and foster homes, and his discovery of his powers, his rise as the detective prince, and his plans to manipulate Shidou—and the many, many murders he had carried out on Shidou's behalf. Kurusu just listened, mostly silent, prompting him now and then to go on, or asking questions to keep him talking.

By the end of it, Gorou was exhausted, and really, truly disgusted with himself in a way that he hadn't felt for years. He'd cried himself sick his first night back in his own apartment, over the faces of people he'd murdered and hadn't been able to even remember before. Now they were coming back to him, night after night, vividly, and he'd hardly slept at all in the past four days. Was this what it meant to be “reformed”? It seemed he was personally experiencing the mind control that the Phantom Thieves practised, as another of their victims. At this point, he was starting to wish he'd just died in his own Palace.

“You still haven't told me one thing,” Kurusu said, hunched, hands in pockets, looking down at the ground. Like this, he suddenly seemed less intimidating than he had before, back in the cafe, squeezing both Gorou's hands and declaring him his prisoner.

“You haven't told me…how you feel about me.” He looked up again, right in Gorou's face, and again, Gorou was struck by the intensity of those eyes. He had a power over people, with his personality. And Gorou was no exception.

Gorou looked away. “I already told you.”

“Your shadow told me,” Kurusu corrected. “I want to hear you say it.”

Gorou's mouth flapped open, hung there for a minute, then closed again. “I…” 

It was sort of ridiculous, really. Gorou had already bared his soul to him, quite literally, if not really consensually, but now, revealing even the slightest bit of vulnerability to Akira seemed both revolting and impossible. He was unable to remain in denial any longer, but that didn't mean he was capable of doing what he wanted, being the sort of person he wanted to be. He was still a miserable, hateful, cowardly piece of shit who would rather die than express something real, rather than something manufactured for the express purpose of making people like him. The only difference now was that he was aware of who he really was, and couldn't lie to himself about it. But he could still try his goddamn best to lie to Kurusu.

Even if Kurusu clearly wasn't buying it.

Kurusu took a step toward him, and his tone changed as he said, “Or…maybe I could ask your body, instead.”

Gorou choked, staring back at Kurusu, who stared back with a stock-serious look until his face split into a grin. “Kidding. Sort of.” He reached down to stroke the side of Kurusu's face, and Kurusu froze, caught between wanting to lean into it and wanting to pull away.

“Sometimes…” Kurusu leaned down, his face moving closer to Gorou's. “This makes it easier. To feel…open.” He kissed Gorou, and this time, Gorou felt himself giving in to Kurusu's latest attempt to wear down his walls.

Leaning over Gorou's chair, his hands on the armrests to Gorou's sides, Kurusu explored Gorou's mouth, and Gorou let him, invited him in. His mouth was usually so much better at lying than this.

Kurusu lowered himself down onto the chair, into Gorou's lap, never letting their mouths move apart. By this point, Gorou was uncomfortably aware of his growing erection, and Kurusu had to be aware of this, too.

Gorou felt clumsy in comparison to Kurusu, his kissing awkward, his hands hanging at his side, not knowing what to do with them, as Kurusu's hands slid down his chest with the kind of confidence that only practice brought. 

Gorou broke the kiss. “Sometimes this makes it easier, huh?” he said, tone harsh. “Is this a common tactic for you?”

Of course Kurusu was practiced. Of course he'd had others. Why would Gorou expect otherwise? The aching anger and jealousy that he usually kept carefully concealed with everyone else, he now let fly, and he shoved Kurusu to the floor, taking advantage of the moment when Kurusu was stunned to thump down on top of him, straddling his hips, his hands smacking the floor on either side of Kurusu's head.

“You've used this little strategy on others, haven't you?” Gorou said. He kept his tone even, but his eyes were sharp. “Using sex to grease the wheels of social intercourse? Who with? Boys? Or girls? Yuusuke pings my radar quite hard, but I wouldn't put it past Ryuuji, either. And we both know all the girls are clearly attracted to you.”

Kurusu winced, and that just told Gorou that he was even more right then he'd imagined. “Wait, you've fucked more than one of them?” His eyes flashed. “Of course. You're the golden boy. Charming, perfect in every way. You always know what to say to people. You know how to get what you want.” As Gorou talked, he was clumsily wrestling off Kurusu's belt and pants, and within moments, he had Kurusu's cock in his hands. He was already hard. “Everyone loves you,” Gorou muttered. “Of course. Why wouldn't they?” He lowered his face to Kurusu's cock, giving it a long, slow, lick from base to tip, and enjoying Kurusu's shudder in response. “There's no way you'd be a virgin.”

He lowered his mouth down onto Kurusu's cock, and Kurusu gasped. Gorou didn't really know what he was doing, but he'd seen porn, and he knew what he liked on himself, and that should be good enough.

“Wai…wait…” Kurusu stuttered as Gorou worked his cock, sliding his mouth up and down. “Are you…ah! Are you…a virgin?”

Gorou lifted his head from Kurusu's dick and wiped his mouth to look Kurusu in the eye. He didn't say anything, just leaned forward and pressed his own erection, straining against his slacks, against Kurusu's bare one, with his hand.

“You're a virgin!” Kurusu blurted, and as if in retaliation, Gorou grabbed Kurusu's dick and squeezed a little too hard, making Kurusu squeal. “No no, it's fine! It's good! It's…cute.” Kurusu smiled, and reached up to strike Gorou's thigh. “I like that I get to be your first.”

Hearing this, however, did not make Gorou feel any better. With a growl, he fumbled his belt open, yanked down his pants and boxers, bared his erection, and pressed it down onto Kurusu's so he could jerk them both together. Kurusu moaned and writhed under him, but Gorou couldn't help but think about the other hands that must have touched his skin, how many other people had heard him moan.

Splayed on top of Kurusu, Gorou meant to keep going until one of them came, but Kurusu wriggled underneath him, slipping out of his grasp. “Stop…you're gonna make me come. And…I want you to fuck me.”

Gorou twitched a little in surprise, but Kurusu didn't miss a beat, spitting on his hand and reaching over for Gorou's dick.

The hand on his dick made Gorou let out a shameful mewl, and he leaned into Kurusu's motions, thrusting his hips into Kurusu's hand. How many times had he fantasized about Kurusu touching him? The reality of it was almost too much. It took him a moment to realize that Kurusu was just trying to lube him up.

“Spit for lube? Really?” Gorou said, incredulous. That sounded like…a bad idea.

“Yeah?” Kurusu said. “I mean, it's doable.”

“Wait,” said Gorou, and he retrieved a bottle from his own desk—product that he used for…personal purposes—and smeared it all over his dick liberally.

Kurusu kicked off his pants then, spreading his legs wide as he lay on his back to invite Gorou's cock. An invitation Gorou couldn't bring himself to refuse, no matter how angry he was.

He slid into Kurusu's tight asshole slowly, expecting it to be harder than it was, but Kurusu clearly knew anal. He moaned with every inch Gorou added, bouncing impatiently as if he were trying to force it deeper.

“Akechi, Akechi, fuck me,” he pleaded, and this was a look Gorou had never seen on Kurusu's face. He looked positively needy.

And that made Gorou really fucking hard. 

Both hands on the ground, Gorou thrust in, out, in, establishing a rhythm. With Kurusu moaning and panting under him like that, he knew he wasn't going to last long. So he took it slow to stave off orgasm, taking his time to soak in the desperate need on Kurusu's face.

“How many cocks have been in here, huh?” he found himself muttering, half to himself, half accusing Kurusu. “How many people have been in love with you and fucked you like this? It's so easy for you, isn't it? Akira…” he found himself breathing Kurusu's first name as he came into his ass, hard, with a shudder and a jolt.

Kurusu, left unfinished, jerked himself to completion with Gorou's dick still inside of him, coming all over his own shirt.

Gorou sat there for a minute, still buried deep inside Kurusu, watching him lie there, panting, looking up at him. And he understood what Kurusu had said earlier about this making you feel more open. He felt just as exposed as he had been inside his Palace, in a way.

“Believe me, Akechi…” Kurusu said, looking up at him with post-sex glassy eyes. “I know…I know people love me. It's…easy to make it happen. I say the right things, and sometimes I mean it. Usually I mean it. But…” he broke eye contact, turning his head to the side. “Sometimes, it just feels like a set of personalities I put on to please other people. It's never…like this. It's not like with you. I feel like…” he looked back up at Gorou again. “I feel like you're my other half.”

A choked noise came out of Gorou's throat then, something halfway to a laugh, and he pulled out of Kurusu to watch the come ooze out of his asshole. Kurusu shivered at the absence.

And then Kurusu talked. He told Gorou about his parents who were hardly ever present, who didn't even cook meals for him most of the time, never mind believe him when he'd been accused of a crime he didn't commit. He told Gorou about how he'd practically been taking care of himself by the age of ten, about his suicide attempt in middle school that nobody had ever even noticed, when he had just vomited the pills back up on his own. He told Gorou about being completely isolated at home, at school, in life, until his parents kicked him out to live with Soujirou and he swore he was going to live a new life. Become a new person. Transform himself. Reform himself.

If you want to change the world, you've got to start with yourself, after all.

And he told Gorou about the dreams he'd had, about prison, about his jailers, and how Gorou's prison had so closely resembled his own, about how seeing Gorou's pain was like looking in a mirror.

As Gorou listened, he slowly slumped lower and lower, until he was lying against Kurusu's chest, between Kurusu's legs. He had to bury his face, or Kurusu would see he was on the verge of tears.

I almost killed him, he thought to himself. How could I have almost killed him? What the fuck was I thinking?

When Kurusu was done talking, he just held Gorou against his chest, and they lay there for a while as Gorou tried to get himself under control again.

Then suddenly, after a long silence, Kurusu said, “I want you. Don't think nobody wants you. I want you. I want you.” 

Gorou sobbed against him, apologizing over and over. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry for everything. I can't even apologize to them all…I don't even remember them all! Why don't I remember? How could I just…forget?” His words fell apart for a while, and he clung tighter to Kurusu, making no sound other than muffled crying. “I don't deserve anyone's forgiveness. I don't deserve your forgiveness. But I need it. Please…Kurusu…tell me you forgive me… Please…forgive me…”

Kurusu held him tight, and said, “I forgive you.”

xxx

After they'd both showered and changed—Akechi's apartment may have been small, but at least it had a shower—Akira stayed for a bit, and they just cuddled, and napped a little. But it got late, and Akira had to go.

He stood at the door awkwardly for a minute, not wanting to leave.

“It's okay. I'll be with you for Sae's Palace. And Shidou's,” Akechi said. “I always meant to kill him, anyway,” he added darkly.

“We're not going to kill him!” Akira reminded him. “Just reform him.”

Akechi sighed. “Honestly, I can't even envision him reformed. That would be some real mind control.”

“Hey,” Akira raised a hand to jab Akechi on the shoulder. “I worked my magic on you, didn't I?”

“Yeah, your magic cock,” Akechi muttered.

“It's still weird to hear you say dirty words,” Akira said with a smirk. “I didn't think you were capable of it. I thought you were always the perfect gentleman.”

Akechi snorted. “Yeah, right.” But a heartbeat later, his expression reverted to something nearly identical to the mask he'd always worn before. Just, there was something slightly different about him now, or maybe the change was just something that only Akira could see. But there was still a little something haunted about his eyes, a little pain leaking out through the facade.

Or maybe he was just imagining things.

“I'll be with you, too,” Akira reminded him as well. “For Niijima's Palace. And Shidou's. And…after that.”

“I'm going to go to jail, you know,” Akechi told him.

“So will I!” Akira crowed. “We can be prison buddies.”

Akechi snickered. “I think…we already are.”

“Yeah…we're stuck in this prison together.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Hey.”

“All right…not-so-unfortunately.”

“Fortunately?”

“Maybe…a little bit.”

xxx

A couple of months later, when the real Shidou was grovelling before Gorou, begging forgiveness, going down his knees to press his forehead to the ground, Gorou thought about how they'd fought Shidou's shadow together in his Palace, and just how many times he had shot Shadow Shidou in the fucking head, spending every clip he had only to use a magic item that would refresh his ammo, then firing all of those into Shidou's stupid fucking shadow face, too.

It hadn't been enough. It would never be enough. But then again, there were probably about a hundred-odd people who felt the same way about Gorou as he did about Shidou, so it didn't really matter, in the end. If the Phantom Thieves weren't going to kill Gorou, then Gorou had no right to kill Shidou. So Gorou didn't kill him, no matter how much he wanted to.

But he didn't forgive Shidou, either.

Gorou wasn't the kind of person Kurusu was. Not the kind of person who was capable of forgiveness.

He just pulled out a book—Power, Ideals and the Political Mind—laid it on on Shidou's desk, and walked away.


	2. Epilogue: Forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An epilogue to Fortunate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (In Japanese, Futaba always says “sarada ba!” instead of goodbye. “Saraba da” is like an old-fashioned, ninja way to say farewell, while sarada ba is just a garbled way of saying that which is popular on the internet and also sounds like “salad bar.” It's proof that Futaba is a big nerd and memelord. Anyway, when Futaba says “farewell,” here, that's what I'm imagining her saying. Idk what she says in English. “Smell ya later”?)

Kurosu had promised he would help with this, but now Gorou wasn't quite sure if Kurosu was giving him an encouraging push on the back or shoving him in here and locking the door behind him. Kurosu sure had enough reasons to resent him and yet seemingly didn't (Gorou resented Kurosu for far less), but Futaba had about a million times more reason to absolutely loathe him to the core of her being.

Or well, she would, once she found out the truth. Though Gorou suspected she already basically knew.

Mr. Sakura and Kurosu had both vacated Leblanc, leaving him alone with Futaba, standing in front of the bar.

“Akira told me you wanted to tell me something?” Futaba asked. She seemed apprehensive, a little tense.

Gorou avoided her eyes. It was best to get straight to it.

He knelt down on the floor, placed his hands in front of him, and bowed his head down until it touched the ground. “I'm sorry. I'm the one who killed your mother. I'm so, so sorry.”

Futaba was silent for a long time, and Gorou didn't look up, so he didn't have the slightest clue what she was thinking or how she was reacting.

“…If you want me dead, I can't really argue. I could tell you how best to do it and how to dispose of my body, if you're concerned about that,” he went on, deadpan and utterly sincere.

“…Aha. Aha ha. Heh heh heh…” Futaba started laughing in a weird, strained way, and Gorou looked up. Her expression was complicated, too much going on for Gorou to really pick out one thing. “What the heck, an actual, real-life dogeza? I feel like a daimyo, here. Samurai Gorou. Or a wakagashira. Are you gonna cut off your pinky for me? I'd kinda like that, actually…” she babbled.

“…I suppose I'm already a part of the criminal underworld, but I rather like my pinkies,” Gorou replied, putting his face back down on the ground again. “I'd really rather you just kill me.”

Suddenly, Futaba burst into a full, shrieking belly laugh. Gorou was so startled, he pushed himself up to his knees again to look at her. She just stood there for a good full minute, laughing until she cried, and then her laughter ended up more like sobs. It was another full minute before she got herself under control again.

“I do kinda want to kill you,” she admitted, wiping the tears out of her eyes with the back of her hands. “But I also kinda don't. I hate you. But…you're funny. You're smart. You're a weirdo. You kinda remind me of Akira. I like you. It's weird.”

Gorou sat awkwardly on his knees, feeling like maybe he didn't need to bow anymore, but also that getting up would be wrong, still. “I know that feeling.”

“Maybe it's 'cause…Joker stole my heart, too,” Futaba mumbled a bit, and looking up at her, Gorou realized she was speaking both literally and metaphorically. “I feel like we're kinda alike.” She turned away, facing outside the glass front door, and Gorou took that at his cue to get to his feet.

“I'm pretty sure I'm a lot worse than you are,” Gorou said darkly.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Futaba said, not missing a beat and turning back to him again with bit of a grin. “You're a badboy, all right. But maybe, if I'd had Shidou and not Soujirou, I'd have ended up like that, too.” Her voice went quieter. “I know what it's like to be the kid nobody wants.”

Yet again, Gorou was hit by a powerful wave of jealousy—of Futaba, for having gone through everything he had, and never using it as an excuse, never letting her turn her into something disgusting. At the end of the day, he couldn't eliminate the little seed of hatred that he had for her, for all of the Phantom Thieves. His eyes moved away from her, and down.

“I'm jealous of you, you know,” she interrupted his spiral of dark thoughts. 

He jerked his head up. “What?” He doubted his ears.

“Before Joker stole my heart,” she gave a vague wave, “I couldn't do anything. I couldn't even leave my room. I couldn't look at anyone in the face. I was scared of everyone, everything. At least you could do stuff.” Her voice dropped to a near-inaudible mutter, and she turned away from him completely. “Maybe that's why he loves you.”

Feeling rather stunned, Gorou pasted on his usual, reflexive smile. “I'm fairly certain that between becoming a hikkikomori and a serial killer, the former is the less morally-culpable option.”

Futaba giggled. “Sure. But being serial killer is cooler, don't you think?”

Gorou looked at her like she was crazy. “Um…”

She waved her hands as if in attempt to negate her statement. “I mean, not actually! But there are so many shows about serial killers these days, you know? And I think your life would make a good anime. Hikkikomori life doesn't make good anime.” She paused, and amended herself. “Except Welcome to the NHK.”

Gorou was forced to laugh. “You're a little strange.”

“You are, too.”

“I can't deny that.” Gorou smiled wryly, paused, then spoke again. “I'm inevitably going to end up in prison… Probably for a very, very long time…” In actuality, he knew he was going to be executed. He was eighteen. He would be tried as an adult. And he knew enough about the justice system to know what would happen to him. And he knew he deserved it.

Just, he wanted to tell Futaba an optimistic lie, so that she would pass that optimistic lie on to Kurusu. It may have been the first time in his life he'd ever been motivated to lie for someone else's sake, rather than his own. It didn't feel any better.

“But…if I ever get out…” he looked at his gloved hands. “I'll cut off my pinky for you, Wakagashira. Futagashira?”

Futaba charitably giggled at his bad joke. “Lame.” She stepped close to him, and gently took his hand. Gorou was startled, but let her. 

She grabbed his pinky, and yanked it lightly. “Deal. This pinky's mine.” She smiled. Then turned around, and suddenly dashed out the door. “Farewell, shatei!” she said. Younger brother. In the yakuza sense of the word.

Left standing there and not quite sure how to feel, Gorou rubbed his pinky finger, and stared at the door she'd just walked out of.


End file.
